IPod Shuffle: Three Men, a Lady, and a Little Baby
by Esca Madeline
Summary: The standard IPod Challenge combined with unexplored romantic possibilities from my other story, Three Men, a Lady, and a Little Baby. CH3: Randy/June OH GOD, it's been too long...no one even does these things anymore, do they?
1. Jeff and June

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone in connection with World Wrestling Entertainment.

A/N: I read an iPod Shuffle by _Westfan_…and the condition was that if a person reads the story, the reader is tagged to do a shuffle of their own afterwards. That was a cruel little trick, because she's a good writer and it's hard to ignore any of her stories…but doing a shuffle sounds deviously fun nevertheless.

So I decided to kill two birds with one stone and do several shuffles on the pairings of another story of mine, _Three Men, a Lady, and a Little Baby. _Why? Because the good readers there want their romance, and it's about time I give it to them! However, that story is set in an Alternate Universe, so if that's not your cup of tea, then I don't suggest reading this.

**IPod Shuffle Challenge: Jeff and June**

**#1 –** **The Gift, by Seether **

_No way._

Her first thought had been one of general surprise, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping instinctively. Her second thought had been a little more clear-cut.

_How did he know__? How on earth did he find out?_

She had never told anyone, had she? No. She was sure of that. Then again, they _were_ best friends as well as neighbors…and thirteen-year-old boys did have a penchant for peeping on the girls next door, didn't they?

Still…the fact that he had found out irked her to a degree, because whenever she slipped away from the others at night, she always tried to make sure that no one followed her. She would return to her empty home, walk barefoot into her backyard garden, and find a nice clearing with plenty of dirt and grass.

And then, she would dance.

These were the rare moments where she could _do_ such a thing, moments where she didn't have to hide her physical condition from the world. She would revel in the silent sensations that only she could hear and feel and understand. She would feel the ground beneath her feet and revel in the softness of the earth, the sound of euphonious music that she could hear from the chirping of the crickets and the vibrations made from the pounding of her heart. No one could make fun of her defective legs here, and no one could say she looked repulsive or was acting foolishly.

She thought it was her secret, her guilty little pleasure that she had to herself and herself only.

But one day Jeff had approached her, pressing the fine silken dancing ribbon in her hands. His face, which was a bright shade of red, was a perfect picture of embarrassment as he stuttered, "I…I just saw it in the store shelves there, and…and I knew it was for you."

And then she knew it wasn't just her secret. Not anymore.

And even though she never quite got around to asking him how he had found out, June decided that this guilty pleasure was better shared, even if Jeff found himself constantly tripping over her feet.

Heh. And _he_ was supposed to be the athletic one.

--

**#2 – Mesmerized, by Papa Vegas**

He never imagined that she could be so _different_.

The first time Jeff stumbled upon her had been by sheer accident. It had been one of those nights where he just couldn't sleep, where he had too many thoughts picking at his mind. His mother, his studies, the fact that his constant hair-dyeing was starting to attract some unwanted attention by the prissy, closed-minded school staff…

While his own backyard was cluttered with used trampolines and training weights and broken guitars (the latter of which he entirely blamed Matt for), he remembered the backyard garden that June always tended to at her house, and it had seemed like the perfect place to just _think_.

Apparently she had thought so too.

At first, she had simply been standing in the center of the garden, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Then he saw her tense, and for a split second he thought that she had seen him. He half expected her to grab handfuls of dirt and flowers and start throwing them at him as punishment for peeping on her.

Thus it had completely surprised him when she started to dance. It surprised him even more when he found himself bewitched by it all, unable to move as he watched her thin, thirteen-year-old body sway in the moonlight.

Her legs, lean and white and _not_ swollen, bent under her form gracefully. He ducked under the bushes when she twirled in his direction, his heart racing a mile a minute as he tried to recollect his scattered thoughts.

Sure, Jeff had been in love before. Even at his young age, he had fallen in and out of it more times than he could even remember. But no matter how many odd-times he had been in love, this was the first time he could ever remember being mesmerized.

--

**#3 – ****Everything You Want, by Vertical Horizon**

He asked her time and time again if she was really going to go through with it.

"Of course I'm going to go through with it, silly," she replied, punching Jeff lightly in the arm as she looked through the piles of dresses that the wedding planner had laid out on her bed. "Todd proposed, what, eight months ago? It would be downright cruel to cancel the engagement now!"

"But Junie…" Jeff fidgeted, before he fingered the lace of one of the dresses June had rejected. "It's just so weird. I mean, you and Todd were my friends since babyhood. And now, to see you two getting married just like that…it's just so weird."

"Then get married yourself," June teased, pushing the dresses aside so that she had room to sit by Jeff on the bed. "You've been seeing Beth for ages. Get a ring, get on your knees, and ask her to marry you. Then we'll both be married, and we'll be even."

"Hell, I ain't gonna do that. Beth ain't the marrying type, and neither am I."

June threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

"But…" The rainbow-haired artist stared at June thoughtfully, before propping himself on the bed one elbow. "If the right girl came along and she was everything I wanted, then maybe I might change my mind about holy matrimony."

"Everything you want, huh?" June grinned at her friend playfully. "What's your type then? The free-spirited, rebellious soul? Because if it is, then I know this girl named Ashley who might be a good match for you. Want me to set up a blind date?"

Jeff snorted. "Give her to Matt. He's the one who needs to date again. But no, I actually want a different type of girl."

"Oh? Like who?"

"I want someone who I can trust. I want someone who'll always be there for me. Someone who'll listen to me bitch about stupid stuff without bitching back. I want a woman who's kind, sweet, understanding, and doesn't hesitate to learn and experience new things."

"…wow." June blinked. "That sounds like a girl with a beautiful soul. But Jeff…" The dark-haired woman bent down and cupped his face in her hands. "You're a wonderful person too. Whoever you get together with will be the luckiest woman in the world."

Silence.

Jeff turned his head to the side, suddenly frowning as a faint blush crept across his cheeks. "And what about you, baby girl? Is Toddy everything you want in a man?"

And here, June laughed softly. "Of course. He's sweet and caring…he's too good for me."

"Do you love him?"

The question was sudden, unexpected, and it completely caught June off guard. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Do. You. Love. Him?" Jeff was now staring directly at her, his green eyes boring deeply into hers as she found herself stammering and breaking out in a cold sweat under his stare.

Did she love him?

It was a simple question really, one that she should have known the answer to. And truth be told, she _did _know the answer…but it wasn't an answer she was proud of, nor was it an answer she wanted to face. She didn't understand why Jeff was asking her this _now_, especially when her wedding was only a few months away.

So she simply smiled and gave him her pat answer. "Of course I love him. He's everything I want."

--

**#4 – Moonrise, by Patrice**

Jeff was silent.

In fact, he was _always_ silent during sunsets. An eight-month-pregnant June frowned as she spotted Jeff sitting by the window, his eyes glued to the fierce orange-red colors that splashed throughout the sky. She didn't quite understand why people enjoyed sunsets so much. In her opinion, sunsets were depressing, but she was in the minority. Was it really so spectacular that it got one of the most spirited men she knew to just... _stop_?

She couldn't understand it. With a soft sigh, June walked over to Jeff's side and sat down next to him by the window, staring upwards with a mixture of indifference and frustration.

Jeff frowned, turning his attention to the dark-haired woman as he raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Hey, Junie?"

Her voice was oddly nonchalant as she replied, "Yes, Jeff?"

"Um..." He trailed off for a second, frowning in puzzlement as he scratched his chin distractedly. "What are you doing, girl?"

_What am I doing? Isn't it obvious, love? _June shook her head, before she answered quietly, "I'm watching the sunset with you."

"But you hate sunsets," Jeff replied, his frown deepening. "You hated them all your life."

June's hands clenched, but she kept them on her lap, away from Jeff's field of vision. "I know. I still do, actually."

"But then why would you—" The rainbow-haired artist cut himself off as June's hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He flinched backwards in apprehension as her gaze became dark and downcast. What had he done now?

But then he saw her eyes. Saw her trying to hold back her tears as she finally calmed down and gave him a sad, almost pleading look. This look changed everything.

"He…he used to like them too, you know," June whispered, her large brown irises staring deeply into his green ones. "He was always gushing about how beautiful sunsets were, and I never had the courage to tell him I hated them. All those picnics we used to have…all the afternoons and evenings we used to spend together…and I always hated them." June shut her eyes, and tried to blink back the tears. "Can you tell me, Jeff? What's so great about a sunset anyway?"

"…"

"…"

Jeff didn't say anything at first. He just watched as she steadied her breathing back to normal, sinking slightly against the windowsill as her frustration subsided. When he was sure she was calm, he opened his mouth to speak. "Junie…I ain't watching the sunset."

June blinked in surprise, wiping her tears away. "Huh?"

"To be honest—" Jeff grinned "—I don't really like them all that much myself."

"T-then what are you doing? You look out the window every evening…"

"I'm watching the moonrise."

The dark-haired woman's mouth fell open slightly, before she gave Jeff a deadpanned stare. "That's the same thing, love."

"No, it ain't!" Jeff retorted, sitting up as he gave her a hard frown. "They're very different!"

"Well then," June replied coyly, "Can you explain it? What's the difference between a sunset and a moonrise?"

And here, she saw him lie back against the window pane, folding his arms under his head as he stared back up at the sky. "Junie, the sunset and the moonrise both happen at around the same time. When the sun goes down, the moon comes out and—"

"I know that," June interrupted quietly. "Just... explain them."

"Fine. The sunset is like..." He paused in thought. "The sunset is like the aftermath of a fight, I guess. After the insanity and destruction caused in the day, there's finally some peace... but it still burns from the fighting."

June didn't speak, soaking the description into her mind and relishing in her imagination. Minutes flew by in the blink of an eye yet it seemed like ages passed until she timidly asked, "And the moonrise?"

"The moonrise…" Jeff sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "The moonrise is much calmer. It's almost like…like…" He brightened slightly as a thought hit him. "I got it! It's like waking up after a nice, long sleep!"

"Huh?" June raised her head at that, turning it towards Jeff in curiosity. "Waking up after a long sleep?" She saw him nod vigorously. He was _proud_ of himself.

"Yeah, it's kind of gradual and slow. It's like when you're asleep and just about to open your eyes, you know that what's happening and you expect it and then it's suddenly _there_. You're awake. Even though it took more time than what you thought, it doesn't matter because before you know it it's there. It's…peaceful."

Jeff sighed deeply and June could sense his contentment. He turned his body to the side slightly, facing her. "Am I just an idiot?" he asked, grinning. "Or do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"…I understand, love." June couldn't stop the smile from crossing her face even if she wanted to, and on impulse she reached out and clutched Jeff's hand in her own. "You know, I really think I do."

--

**#5 – Your Love, by Outfield**

The other customers in the bar gathered around in a small crowd, raising their eyebrows in a sort of amused humor as they watched the young couple near the front. They were swaying on their tiptoes, clinging to each other as they sang—surprisingly on key—a popular love song.

"_I just wanna use your love toniiiiiiiiight!_" the young woman sang, wrapping her arms around the rainbow-haired man next to her who was currently giggling into her neck. "_And I don't wanna lose your love toniiiiiiiiiiiiight!_"

"_I ain't got many—many—_" The young man broke off in mid-sentence, his head falling to his side as he slurred, "Uh, wha's next, Joo-nee?"

His companion froze, her dark brown eyes narrowing slightly as she frowned in confusion. The two stood that way for a second longer before the girl flung her arms wildly in exasperation as she plopped down on the table, "You _forgot_ the song?! Wha'…how…" Her face creased into a scowl as she flung her arm out, slapping him lightly in the thigh. "Y'jerk, Jeffie."

Jeff whimpered slightly, rubbing his leg even though he hadn't even been hit very hard. "Is'not like I sing it to _you_, Joo-nee."

June's scowl deepened as she flung her arms out again, snapping, "Well, maybe y'should, meathead!"

And the young man stared at her slightly, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "Did you—did you _wan'_ me too?"

June shifted slightly, her face turning crimson at the remark. "Maaaaaaaaaybe."

Jeff's face seemed to sober for a moment as he glanced down at her, his voice softening to a whisper. "I'm sorry."

June turned back towards him again, a devilish smile crawling across her face. "Well, y'can make it up to me, love."

"Wha—"

Before he could even say a word, June's fist shot up in the air and she shouted at the bartender, "Another round o' drinks on Jeffie boy here!"

Jeff's face fell slightly, but as the small pub burst into cheers and June planted a drunken kiss to his slightly parted lips, the young man found that he couldn't really argue.

--

**#6 – Someone That You're With, by Nickleback**

It sometimes hurt Jeff to think about June, mostly because he knew all that he could ever be was her best friend. He remembered back to that day so long ago, when he had practically felt June's heart leap at seeing Dave Bautista after so long.

It had surprised him, at first, to see that June still loved Dave despite her earlier decision three years ago. Hell, it had surprised him when June had fallen for Todd Grisham back in the day. Just how did that woman keep falling for men who _weren't _him? Didn't she realize that he wanted to be the one she trusted the most? It was like a sort of twisted race, and instead of winning, Jeff found himself constantly in second place.

Heck, even Cena had a better shot with her than he did.

But in the end, Jeff realized it wasn't all that bad. After all, he still had her love as a best friend and lifetime companion at the moment. And maybe, if he waited long enough, she would open her eyes and give him just a little bit more.

--

**#7 – So Unusual, Jason Mraz (NOT AU)  
**

He didn't like doing things "like everybody else." To Jeff, his individuality was his comfort, his life. Besides, dying his hair once a week and jumping off thirty-foot steel cages added character. His brother didn't mind it, so he couldn't understand why everyone else felt the need to get in his face about it.

That's what he hated. He just didn't get why _other_ people make such a huge deal out of it. It was _his_ body, after all. It wasn't as if _they_ were the ones performing suicidal moves. He was the only one who should have been worrying about bodily harm…well, him and his opponent, at any rate. But they knew what they were getting into.

Randy always went off on how Jeff should be "less crazy" and to "take pride in physical appearances," because the rainbow-haired warrior was supposedly going to permanently damage his face one day by making a mistake on a Swanton Bomb.

But Jeff could care less about what people thought of his appearances, because he didn't give a rat's ass about theirs.

And Randy wasn't the only one. Sure, his girlfriend Beth never _said_ anything about it, but he could always tell when she wanted to say something, and he knew that she was a conservative person by nature. He might have messed up now and then, but he always tried to fix his mistakes. He wasn't even sure if Beth understood his need to be different, to be _himself_.

And then there was June.

June, the cheerful, kind, funny-medical-assistant-girl of the WWE physical staff.

From the moment he actually met June, a strange feeling of familiarity struck a chord in him. He felt as though they had become friends so fast and so well, with none of that awkward "sitting by and waiting" time that it took with Randy and, to a smaller degree, Beth. It was almost as if they had always known each other.

It was an odd feeling. But what was even stranger to Jeff was the fact that he never felt her or heard her question the way he was. She had just accepted him, a nearly complete stranger, just the way he was. No questions asked, no silent or voiced reprimands. She spoke to him as if he was a person, not a wrestler to be used for money or someone to beat up or a person to fuck. She not only respected his talents, but she respected his need for danger, for individuality and hair-dyes, as if she could understand the feeling of freedom it gave him.

Matt had been the first (and only) person to figure it out. He couldn't understand why his younger brother had an attraction to the shy, mousey looking medical assistant, and even after Jeff had explained it all—the familiarity, the respect, the trust and friendship—Matt still didn't understand.

Perhaps the person in love was the only one who was supposed to understand the reasons behind it.

--

**#8 – Your Every Color, by Train**

June loved Jeff's hair. It was soft and strong, flexible and powerful at the same time. The multitude of shaded colors framed his pale face and green eyes wonderfully. And she noticed that Jeff was very patient and didn't flinch as she helped him wash, dye, and brush his hair, even when a knot was painfully pulled out from the back of his head.

To think, it had all started when they were six-years-old and had accidentally poured paint all over themselves. June had ended up with a very orange bottom, but Jeff had fallen headfirst into a can of blue-green paint, and the color had stained his thick blond tresses for days.

Interestingly, Jeff had decidedly liked the change well enough to make it permanent.

"What color should I use today, Junie?" he would ask, and June always had a different answer for him.

"Green and purple! Red and yellow!"

And with a smile, they would buy in the colors she suggested the very next day, and they would set to work on changing his hair color once again.

June ran her fingers through the hair, smiling to herself and wondering what ornaments should go in the rainbow-haired locks—ribbons or bows?

"Hey, Junie! Cut it out!" Jeff would whine before he attempted to knock away the bow that June had planted in his hair. The dark-haired girl would giggle before pressing a kiss against the top of Jeff's forehead, an action that would effectively silence the boy until June had finished decorating the multi-colored tresses.

"There! You look so pretty now!" June would tease, until Jeff snapped out of his stupor and tackled her to the ground, tickling her sensitive spots until she shrieked for forgiveness and snatched all of the insulting ornaments from his hair.

But still, a week or so later, he would always come back to her and ask her the same thing, always with a smile.

"What color should I use today, Junie?" he would ask, and June always had a different answer for him.

"Blue, please! It's my favorite color!"

--

**#9 – Fly, by Sugar Ray**

She was being flung in so many directions at once that at first she thought she wasn't moving at all. It was all so sudden, so unexpected, that she believed it was just a dream. A dream that had been concocted into an annoying little ball of molten lava that was currently eating away at her gut.

_(I never should have let Jeff convince me to do this; I never should have gotten on the trampoline—)_

She wasn't sure when it happened (or how or why or where) but it messed with her all the same, churning her stomach upside down and all around and inside out until she couldn't even recognize herself.

_(I wanna get off, I'm gonna miss the trampoline and hit the ground, I'm gonna crack my head open—whydidIlethimtalkmeintothis?!)_

And then his hand grabbed her flailing one, and all of a sudden she could see a blurry image of his smiling face as he pulled her tightly to his body and held her close as their exhausted forms bounced less and less on the trampoline. When they finally came to a stop, Jeff laughed and pressed a sloppy kiss against her forehead.

"Well…Junie?" he panted, his green eyes sparkling with mischief as he buried his sweaty forehead against the crook of her neck. "Was that…fun…or what?"

Fun?

…FUN?!

She had a million things to say and a million more things she wanted to smack him with, but for some reason (perhaps due to her shock and fatigue) she remained silent. But as she slowly caught her breath, she somehow found herself smiling.

She couldn't quite see how something that had come at her so suddenly could produce something so good, but as far as she could tell it was only going to get better.

--

**#10 – Beautiful, by Christina Aguilera **

_Ugly little bitch._

June shook the words out of her head as she washed the last of the makeup away from her face. Lita and her daughter Jamie had told her she was pretty. And June knew that they had been honest about it too... but honesty could sometimes be biased, couldn't it? Maybe Lita had only said that because she was her friend, and Jamie because she was her little girl.

"Junie, you okay?"

She blinked, her eyes widening as she suddenly jumped up and whirled around to face the voice. "Oh! Jeff!"

She almost grinned at the confused expression on his face as he responded, "What's the matter, girl? Jamie said you were crying."

June felt her lips thin. Her child was always honest, sometimes overly. Usually it was a bit worrisome, although June had to admit that honesty was always better than lying. At any rate, talking to Jeff was exactly what she needed at the moment, so the young mother nodded her head dismissively. "Actually, love, I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"If I asked you a question," June said carefully, "would you lie to me?"

Jeff blinked, frowning at the question. "Of course not."

"Promise me."

"All right, all right!" Jeff raised his hands in the air in a pacifying gesture. "I promise!"

"Good." June took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before giving him the most serious look she could muster. "Do you think that I'm ugly?"

"…"

"…"

"W_hat_?!" Jeff's mouth dropped open as his voice cracked slightly. "W-why would you ask that?"

"Just answer the question."

"U-ugly? Yes—I—I mean no! I mean..." The rainbow-haired artist scrambled for words, becoming more incoherent and jumbled as the young mother's face fell further and further. "BAH! What I think shouldn't matter, Junie!"

June frowned, and lowered her gaze to the ground. "Your opinion matters a lot to me, you know that. I know I'm not pretty, but do I still look…nice?"

"Not pretty?" Jeff's forehead wrinkled in disapproval at the statement. "What does that have to do with anything?"

The young mother shrugged. "I'm a plain woman, nothing special to look at."

"Says who?"

"…it doesn't matter. I don't care what they think, but do _you_ like how I look?"

Jeff was silent for several seconds. Then, he finally sighed and pulled her into a tight embrace, his lips just inches away from her ear as he said simply, "You're _Junie_."

"Huh?" June raised her head up in curiosity, blinking at her friend. "What do you mean?"

"You're Junie," Jeff repeated. "You can't be judged on whether you're ugly or pretty. You're just…Junie. You're _you_. You're unique. No one can judge you."

And June quietly let that assessment soak in. She thought for a moment, taking apart his words, before a small smile crossed her face. "I see," she murmured, resting her head tiredly against his shoulder. "Thank you, love."

It may not have been exactly the answer she was looking for, but June realized that it was all she needed.

--

**Oh my god, that reeked.**

**If by some miracle you like this story, then let me know. (Next coupling: John/June!)**


	2. John and June

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone in connection with World Wrestling Entertainment.

A/N: Part 2! It's a little different from Jeff's chapter, but hey, it's not like any of these events happen in the actual story, right?

And yes, I'm upset that Randy went and RE-injured himself.

**IPod Shuffle Challenge: John and June**

**#1 – Love Like Laughter, by Beth Orton (who is NOT related to Randy Orton)**

Sometimes he would purposefully tell a stupid joke just because he knew it would make her laugh. He would watch her as her mouth opened wide in her spell of genuine laughter, her eyes crinkling themselves at the corners with amusement.

The thing John loved about it most, though, was how it was so uncharacteristically light of an attitude for June. Her voice took on a carefree edge, pleasantly different from the too careful, too soft, too cautious tone she normally carried (though he honestly didn't mind that either). It almost made him forget about the hardships they were faced with.

June's laugh was a rare gift, one that he treasured and constantly wanted more of. And even though he knew in the corner of his mind that it was more probable she was laughing at _him_ rather than his joke…John discovered that he didn't really give a damn.

After all, if she was laughing at _him_, then she couldn't be off laughing at somebody else.

--

**#2 – Too Close For Comfort, by Jamie Cullum**

June didn't mind any of it at first.

She didn't mind it when John started hanging around her more than he did Jeff and Randy, or even his cheerleader girlfriends. In fact, she found his attention to be rather enjoyable, particularly when he started buying her small gifts and trinkets—a flower here, a hair clip there, all of which were very nice.

So after his sports games, she began the habit of bringing him a bottle of cold water or cleaning up his bloody lip after his fights, because even though she found the sight of blood nothing short of nauseating (something she would find ironic in her later days), she liked the idea of him depending on her.

If only for a little while.

She even found it cute when he sleepwalked at night during their childhood sleepovers, only to miraculously end up in her bed the next morning. He would always apologize to her and say that it was an accident, but eventually things just got out of hand. No one could sleepwalk into someone else's bed seven times in a row, could they?!

She began to suspect that his intentions may _not_ have been as innocent as she suspected…

…and this was proven when she tried to take a bath one day, and he tried to join her.

"You know, John," June said in a would-be calm voice as she filled the tub with warm water. "When I take a bath, it's kind of something I want to do. Alone. By myself. Without the company of others."

And John simply smirked in response, flashing his dimples in her direction as he said, "What's the big deal, Junie? We always took baths together when we were babies!"

"It's not the same!" June shrieked, her patience finally reaching its end.

"Aw…" John gave her a childish pout. "What are you worried for? It's not like I'm actually gonna see anything. Your boobs haven't exactly developed yet…"

"OUT!"

--

**#3 – ****Friends, by Avril Lavigne**

It was a quiet night of shared beers and a baseball game on the television. John sat by June's side on the sofa as they exchanged idle comments about how poorly pitched the fifth inning was, how terrible the players were at bat, and how the Away team made an undeserved homerun against the Home team.

Of course, at age sixteen they weren't legally supposed to be drinking anything with alcoholic contents, much less beer, but tonight was part of an unofficial holiday. It was a part of "John and June Day," and anything was possible and probable during "John and June Day."

More so because June's father was never, _ever _home.

They sat close together, their knees occasionally brushing against each other every time one of them sat forward to reach for their beer, shoulders touching each time they took a swig of their drink. John would never admit it, but he liked how warm June's body felt next to his. It felt soothing, familiar, and comforting.

As the night progressed and the alcohol flowed through their veins, they shared heartier laughs and jokes, drinking until they were slumped lazily against each other.

It was somewhere between John tiredly leaning his head against the dark-haired girl's shoulder and June drunkenly patting John's thigh that their hands met. When John laced his fingers with June's, she asked in a slurred, slightly uncertain voice, "What are you doing?"

"…"

"…"

"Honestly? I don't know." John gave her a shy smile, and when June gently, almost mindlessly stroked her thumb over his, he asked her, "What are _you_ doing?"

And here, June said nothing. She just kept on trailing her thumb up and down John's, as though she had an answer but didn't quite know how to say it.

They stayed like that, silently holding each other's hand, until the baseball game was long over and the last of the beer had been drunk.

--

**#4 – If You're Not the One, by Daniel Bedingfield**

John had never been able to explain how much of an impact June had in his life.

His father had told him that it was unhealthy to rely on a single person as much as he did, that it was also unnatural. But John didn't listen. He knew that if he did, if he tried to stray and be independent from her (because he had once), then his world would quickly collapse without the dark-haired girl to hold it up.

That wasn't to say that he didn't at least _try_ to date other people. He had been out with countless numbers of women in the past, giving him a reputation that he was "easy" and "loose" as a lover. This behavior only increased when June had married Todd Grisham, and the minute she said "I do," John briefly wondered if the world had ended.

He didn't understand how she could have chosen _him_. A bespectacled, physically inferior _thing_ of a man who couldn't hold his own in a fight even if he wanted to.

John tried to forget. He tried to move on, but like a magnet his heart kept getting pulled back towards June. Eventually he just decided to stop and settle for a close friendship, knowing that friendship was about as far as he was ever going to get, knowing that his dependency on her needed _this _at the very least if he couldn't have her in his arms.

He wasn't ashamed that he was so dependent on a _girl_ of all people. He felt that her importance in his life was an advantage, not a flaw. She once told him that he meant the world to her, and he realized that that was the exact description of his devotion.

She was his world, because if he didn't have her to hold and love, his would go crumbling down.

--

**#5 – Taste of Heaven, by Jim Ed Brown**

They were sitting in the living room, and John happened to be extremely pleased. June had found a small fruit stand selling strawberries. Although he would never admit it, John liked strawberries the most out of all of the fruits he had ever tried.

When asked why he liked strawberries, he always answered, "Because." And even though nobody believed him, it was completely true. He didn't know why he liked strawberries so much. They were just one of those things that he loved when he first tried them.

He began to munch on the strawberries, enjoying the tang that came after biting into it. After a while, he was down to one last strawberry. He reached for it and was about to pick it up when June's hand suddenly snatched it out of his reach.

"Junie!" he shrieked. "THAT WAS MY STRAWBERRY!"

"Sorry, John," June said teasingly, popping the fruit into her mouth. "But you can't claim it as yours. You didn't touch it yet…"

John frowned. How was he going to get that "last strawberry" taste on his lips now? He thought for a moment, racking his brains, before a devilish smile crossed his handsome facial features.

"J-John?" June stared nervously at the young detective. She knew that look all too well… "W-what are you doing? EEK!"

Without warning, John grabbed June by the shirt (something that they later agreed was because of the effects of strawberry juice), and placed his lips firmly over hers.

And in that second, he knew that he had tasted heaven. Heaven with a side of strawberries.

--

**#6 – Call Me When You're Sober, by Evanescence (NOT AU)**

He was drunk again.

She could tell by the way he kept hiccupping, how the vibrations his movements sent out were scattered and uncoordinated. It was a scene that June was too familiar with, and because of this she had no absolutely patience for the man stumbling at the doorway of her hotel room.

June huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to face him. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?" she said dryly.

"N-not true!" She could tell that John was desperately trying to hide the slur in his voice, and for a moment June could have sworn that she saw a sheepish grin crossing over his handsome face. "I jus'—I jus' had a couple."

_Liar._

June stood slowly, a grimace crossing over her face as she stepped aside to let John into her room. Pushing him down onto her bed, she navigated her way to the mini-fridge in the corner, fishing out the small bottle of water and a special porcelain cup she had brought just for these occasions. "I swear, John, one of these days you're going to drink yourself into a coma…HEY! What are you doing?!"

John slung his arms over June's shoulders from behind, pressing his full weight on her as he mumbled incoherently into the top of her head. June fought to keep her blush under control as she spoke between clenched teeth. "I can't hear you, my dearest ex-champ. Stop mumbling."

Raising his head a fraction, John slurred in an overly loud voice, "I sai' you're always so nice t' me when I'm like this."

"Am I?" June smiled lightly as she urged him to lay down on the bed beside her, not on top of her, while shoving the cup into his hands. "Well, love, I'm only taking care of your drunken behind because I know that Mr. McMahon would fire me from the medical team if I let you die of alcohol poisoning. And also…I know for a fact that you won't remember any of this when you're sober. Now drink the water, it'll help."

John slurped the water greedily and it disappeared within seconds. He grinned a loopy grin at her, carefully placing the cup atop of her head. "Y'know, I always loved you th' mos'."

…what?

WHAT?!

The dark-haired woman stared at John in disbelief, her hand frozen in midair as she reached to grasp the cup. "Excuse me? Could you please repeat that last sentence?"

"I mean, Maria and Mickie were nice an' all, but I di'in know 'em." John furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his blue eyes in thought. "A'least, not like how I know you. Y'er _different_."

"John, you're drunk," June repeated, her voice steadily becoming more firm while perversely, her heart thudded almost painfully inside her chest. "Tell me that you love me when you're sober and maybe I'll believe it."

John nodded, his face oddly serious for a man who was drunk on several bottles of Jack Daniels, and for a second there was no slur in his voice. "Okay, I will." The moment ended as quickly as it began as the drunken look once again passed over his face and he started rambling on about something unimportant.

June only half-listened. To her, the morning wasn't coming fast enough.

--

**#7 – Your Love is a Lie, by Simple Plan**

As John relished in the feeling of June's lips against his, he wondered just how he had gotten into the position he was in. Sure, June was kissing him, and he had to be the most ecstatic person in the world, but since when did June like him?

He felt like her new-found feelings had quite literally fallen out of the sky, and he didn't like his doubt. Not one bit. Hell, he fucking felt _used_, like he was just a replacement for Todd and Dave and anyone else June had loved. He couldn't stand the uncertainty and pulled away, his mind full of doubt, guilt, and sadness.

Her heart didn't belong to him. Their love, or whatever it was supposed to be called, was nothing more than a lie.

--

**#8 – Different, by Acceptance**

Sometimes she felt like she was caught in a web, though whose she couldn't quite say for certain.

She still thought about Todd every day. She would take out his picture every night, after the others had all gone to sleep, telling him the events and tribulations she had undergone that day. She loved Todd, that much was certain. She had been scared and frightened after he had died—scared that she would forget him and everything they had gone through.

Yet as time went on she found that although her feelings for him didn't dwindle... they had changed. He was her muse, her guide—but she did not love him like she once had.

Dave was different altogether. She wasn't scared of forgetting him, because he was still alive. He was _alive_, and he was also half a world away from her. She couldn't forget him. She liked Dave a lot, sure enough—but she didn't love him. Heck, the days they shared together had been more professional and work-oriented than anything else.

But Dave was strong. He was confident. He had taught her to stand on her own, to take initiative, to never underestimate an enemy no matter how they appeared on the surface, and that was something she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

And then there was John. Truth be told, she didn't quite understand her fascination with the young detective at _all_. He was strong and confident like Dave, sure, but there was a certain obnoxious, loud, stubborn quality that set him apart. He did what he wanted when he wanted, and didn't let anyone else tell him otherwise.

He was, plain and simple, a thug. So different than the usual men she fell for. She knew he had a bit of grace buried deep, deep, _deep_ down inside, but he rarely ever displayed it.

And then one day she had realized that she didn't need to see John's grace, because it was the lack of it that drew her to him. His charisma was so different from Todd and Dave's that it just stood out, capturing her in his web before she had even seen it coming.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe, it didn't matter whose web she was tangled in, or how the three men might be intertwined because as far as she figured, although they were all important to her, only one was going to be with her for the rest of her life.

--

**#9 – Beautiful Blue Eyes, by Chiodos**

There were so many things that were associated with the color blue.

June knew that people usually associated blue with the bright vivid blue of the skies above, or the slightly darker blue of the clear oceans of the Caribbean. A cloudless sky, along with the sun sparkling off the crystal clear waters was a sight that would take away the breaths of many.

There were bright jewels known as sapphires and they would shine and dazzle in her face. They were one of the most precious jewels in the entire world. Sometimes a bluebird would drop by her window on certain days, and then June just felt peaceful and calm.

She had seen flowers emerge from the earth, spinning wondrous petals that captured the light and casted her entire garden into a beautiful shade of blue. There were so many things that were blue, but there was one thing, one special shade of blue that June loved more than anything.

John's blue eyes.

Sometimes they were pale and clear and at other times they were dark and clouded like a fierce storm, and during those days June felt as if he had the ability to look straight through her. They had the ability to be hard like sapphires, they had the ability to be soft and gentle like a near cloudless sky. They dazzled her and drew her in until she didn't realize she was drowning in that sea of blue.

Before she realized it, she had fallen for those blue eyes and it didn't matter. Those eyes showed her more emotions then there were shades of blue to compare them to.

If she had to choose a shade of blue to be her absolute favorite, she would always choose the blue of John's eyes.

--

**#10 – Touch, by Omarion**

"I don't have to take off my clothes, do I? Because I don't want Todd to come in here and get the wrong idea…"

June rolled her eyes. "No. Just...lie on the couch, um...on your stomach." The dark-haired woman got off the couch and rearranged the pillows so John could rest his head on one of them. "Comfortable?" she asked quietly.

"I guess," John murmured, shifting around until he was satisfied with his position. "You know," he added for good measure, "if it wasn't for the fact that my body feels like absolute shit, there's _no_ way that Todd would let you do this."

"John, do shut up and relax! I can't start the therapy if you keep fidgeting, and you're making me more nervous than I already am…"

She had been friends with John for years, but the truth was that they had rarely ever _touched_ each other. John wasn't big on being touched, thus giving strength to June's theory that touch therapy might be beneficial to him. The fact that John was actually allowing her to try it was a breakthrough in itself. June took a deep breath before putting her hands on John's back.

_Take it easy. It's only John._

She started between the shoulder blades, rubbing in small circles, applying enough pressure to create heat through John's thin t-shirt. The circles got wider and she slowly moved down the spine to the small of the back.

John was pretty quiet, which was creepy considering the fact that he was one of the biggest loudmouths she had ever met in her life. Still, June kept working, diligently pretending that John was just any other patient. Her thumbs pressed lightly into the pressure points, gradually getting deeper. She rotated them back up John's spine until they reached his neck.

She repeated the motions again for another twenty minutes, noting with a wary eye that John was completely still. At first June wondered if he had fallen asleep, but his eyes were open, the blue irises staring blankly at the television.

June moved onto the shoulders and upper arms, using a rough, rotating motion with her thumbs and the heels of her hands. At this moment, she was fairly certain that John had to be the tensest person she had even laid her hands on. Heck, he was so tense that June felt her own body becoming tense just from the contact.

All in all, it was just a very tense moment.

However, on John's part, he had to admit that it felt strange having June touching him _that_ way. He wasn't used to it. As a child, his parents had never been big huggers. His father only hugged during the "special moments," and his mother had stopped hugging and kissing him when he was about nine. He didn't even bother to include his brothers into the equation—they wouldn't be caught dead hugging another guy, related or not.

But June was…well, June. Whenever he saw her, past or present, she would envelop him in an embrace. She'd put an arm around his waist and give him a quick, superficial kiss on the cheek.

Besides her touches, the only other touch John was familiar with was sexual, but even that made him uneasy. He liked the idea of ring rats, whores, and prostitutes because they demanded no genuine affection. They were there purely for the purposes of getting him off. They didn't require foreplay or cuddling afterwards.

After a few more minutes of June's continued massaging, John finally felt himself relaxing into her touch. It still felt strange, but it was a good kind of strange.

John closed his eyes and started letting his mind wander. That was when he began to feel the odd sensation in his stomach and chest. It was a warm and almost painful pulling that seemed to be coming from somewhere within. It wasn't at all familiar. It was making it hard to breathe and his throat was becoming painfully tight.

June was still working, concentrating on being as professional as possible. John swallowed a few times, wondering if maybe he might feel better if he had something to drink. He tried to take a deep breath, but the air didn't seem to want to come. Lying on his stomach wasn't helping.

He turned his head more, so that it was buried in the pillow. It wasn't helping him breathe, of course, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't allow June to see him like this. God only knows what convoluted psychological theories she would conjure up as a result.

Unfortunately for him, June seemed to notice something was wrong. She stopped rubbing, but left her hand resting on John's back. "You okay, love?"

John responded, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Mmm _hmm_."

"Do you want me to keep going?"

_Yes, please. _John thought that her hands felt good, but her touch was obviously having all kinds of strange effects on him, and his mind was furiously telling him that it would be better to stop. Out loud, however, John didn't say a word, so June patted him gently on the back.

"Roll over."

John hesitated. If he was face up, there would be no hiding whatever bizarre and irrational emotion responses he was having to June's supposed therapy. If he refused, June would know something was wrong and then she would want to discuss it.

Ugh. He'd lose either way. Might as well get some enjoyment out of it…

John rolled onto his back. June started over again, using her thumbs to created circular patterns across the breast plate. She stayed there for a while before moving down towards the stomach and abdomen. That area was softer and more sensitive, and therefore required a great deal less pressure.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus only on the sensation and not the fact that one of his best friends was kneeling in front of him, rubbing his belly. This would be a lousy time for one of the other guys to come by for a surprise visit, especially Todd or Jeff or Randy.

John found that it was much easier to breathe, lying on his back. He slowly relaxed again and found himself getting lost in a memory he thought he'd long forgotten. He must have been young, maybe only three or four years old. He had a distinct impression of his Mother massaging his stomach. He must have been sick, maybe eaten too much. She was singing something to him, trying to soothe him. No sooner had the image appeared in his mind, it was gone.

June had begun working on John's face. She was applying gentle pressure with the tips of her fingers to the temple, cheek bones and chin. John suppressed a groan. June's fingers were surprisingly soft and the face was an endless garden of nerve endings.

John felt June's finger tips moving onto his scalp. He resisted the urge to arch his back when he felt pressure being applied on the sides of his head. He wondered if June had missed her calling as a massage therapist.

After devoting another five minutes to the pressure points of the skull, June stopped, sighing softly as she moved away from John and stood up.

"All done."

John felt completely boneless. He wondered if he could muster enough rigidity to sit up. He opened his eyes and looked at June who was smiling at him. She took John's hand and pulled him slowly into a sitting position.

"So?" She gave him a small, somewhat awkward smile. "How was it?"

John blinked a few times, still feeling drowsy. _It was incredible. Will you marry me?_ But when Todd Grisham suddenly came through the door and June's eyes suddenly lit up with delight, what came out of John's mouth was a quiet, "It was…okay. Thanks, Junie."

--

**I hope that I managed to get a different feeling for this coupling because in my head, the circumstances for John and June becoming romantically involved with one another is completely different from what I perceive from Jeff and June. The same thing goes for Randy and June.**

**Next up, Randy/June! I think that pairing might be the only one I have mixed feelings about, despite its obvious popularity. Not that I'm revealing anything, ahahaha… (Coughs nervously) However, I will give fair warning now. I MIGHT make the next shuffle (and only the next shuffle) rated M. But that depends on how I feel. :P**

**Read and review, please!  
**


	3. Randy and June

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone in connection with World Wrestling Entertainment.

A/N: Part 3, after GOD knows how long.

…I'm sorry for not having written chapters in such a long time. Please don't burn me at the stake…please? Look, I even wrote a Randy/June shuffle to pacify you guys before I restart on the main story! (Grovels on hands and knees)

**IPod Shuffle Challenge: Randy and June (RATED M)**

**#1 – I Don't Know Why, by Stevie Wonder**

June never once discovered a reason for one of the biggest events of her life—falling in love with Randy Orton.

She first considered that perhaps she fell for men who were tough and hotheaded, but after some thought on it, June decided that Randy had ventured out of the "hotheaded" category a long time ago and began to steadily move towards "psychotically insane." For a little while, she had begun to wonder if she had been possibly attracted to his sarcasm and dry-humored mouth, but in the end, she decided that Randy used it against her far too much for it to apply as proper reasoning.

At last, the curiosity grew so great that June resorted to asking Lita. Asking the red-haired woman for romantic advice was normally so far-fetched that June didn't even consider it at the beginning, but she sure as hell wasn't going to ask Angie Mysterio (for fear of being spewed with intimate romatic escapades about Rey, who was like an older brother to her, for God's sake) and there was no one else June knew who had experience with the rougher sex.

Vickie didn't count. June was positive that even though the woman had been dating Edge for over a year now, the woman was either retarded when it came to her love life, or had ridiculously horrible taste in men. (The Big Show? Really? And wasn't he already married anyway…?)

"Miss Lita," June asked as she poured her friend a fresh cup of coffee, "is there any reason in the world that even _starts _to explain why I fell in love with Randy? Remember, this is the same little boy who threw _dirt _at me when he was six years old, and then laughed about it in my face."

"Love doesn't need a reason, kiddo," Lita replied quietly, glancing over at Matt, who was in the middle of an unsuccessful attempt to make lunches for himself and the women. A small smile formed on her face, and it obviously took some effort for Lita to switch her attention back to June. "Dirt-throwing aside, I guess love just…happens. Don't think too much about it."

June mused on this for a moment. Her friend had a point. Why did she even _need _a reason for falling in love with the Legend Killer? The answer was that she simply_ didn't_. In fact, now that she had thought about it, June wasn't all too sure that she wanted one.

"Never thought you two would hook up, though," Lita went on, sipping at her coffee with a thoughtful expression. "He must be really good in the sack if he got you to overlook all of the things you hated about him…"

"MISS LITA!"

--

**#2 – Propane Nightmares, by Pendulum**

There were occasional periods when he would have nightmares.

They were horrible nightmares, really. Randy faintly remembered that he had experienced the same type of thing as a young boy, and he often wondered why he had to deal with them _now_. Thankfully, the nightmares were the kind where a person woke up breathing hard and covered in sweat, but not the kind where one woke up screaming. Randy didn't know what he would do if he had to live with _that_ kind of nightmare, because there was an unspoken list between the four of them that consisted of detail things that absolutely did _not _happen to Randal Keith Orton.

Among those were "falling in love" and "having nightmares."

Unbeknownst to his friends (or so Randy believed), this list was constantly being overruled. Randy had fallen in love (with June) and he had nightmares (about June). And that was the thing. The nightmares, for the most part, were all about June—mainly nightmares in which she was taken away from him or him getting killed in front of her. Those were the worst. His friends and his family members each took their turn, but more than all of them combined did June haunt his sleeping hours.

Sometimes, he was lost in the dark and unable to help her as another man (who would always strangely resemble Dave Batista, for some reason) dragged her away. Sometimes, he was bleeding to death in front of her and couldn't save her. Sometimes he drowned and she just watched him die. Sometimes she would laugh cruelly in his face and walk away from him, stating that he was pathetic and she could do much better than him.

Sometimes Randy wished the heavens would give up trying to scare him and _stop_, because he knew that by all rights, Randal Keith Orton should not be having nightmares in the first place. It just _shouldn't _happen.

More often than not, Randy wished he could tell June about his nightmares. He wished he could tell her that the list of things that did _not_ happen to Randal Keith Orton was actually a list of things that often _did_. Randy wished he could tell her just how much she meant to him. And when he finally got down to the nightmare part of it, he wished that June would reassure him that she would never, _ever _leave him, and that he didn't have anything to worry about. Sometimes he'd wake up in a cold sweat, panting heavily, and wish that he could tell her more than anything else in the world.

But Randy didn't tell her and never would, partly because he didn't want June to carry more burdens than she already did, but mostly because there was a list of things that absolutely did _not _happen to Randal Keith Orton.

And falling in love and having nightmares were on the top of the list.

--

**#3 – Violent Love, by Oingo Boingo**

Throughout his life, Rey Mysterio had always been the one on the inside. Though it hadn't always been the _good_ kind of attention, things had always been focused on him.

Now he was an outsider in a group that was so close knit he was surprised they had accepted him in the first place. He felt sort of odd as he just stood around them awkwardly, watching them interact so smoothly with one another, while there he was—not even knowing where to begin.

Rey did find, however, that for the first time he could actually observe the things around him…like how people behaved.

Rey had never actually taken the time to observe someone's actions and think about what they meant, but something about the way Randy Orton carried himself around irritated him, and more often than not, Rey found himself trying to figure out what exactly made the Legend Killer do what he did. Observing him, Rey soon realized four very crucial things:

1) When Randy wanted something badly enough, he usually got it.

2) When Randy knew there was something he couldn't have, no matter how hard he tried, he habitually masked his hurt with destructive behavior.

3) He also, however, showed his _affection_ through violence.

And, most importantly, 4) the amount of times June bore the brunt of Randy's attacks was at least double the totaled amount of everyone else's combined.

And Rey had observed all that in the short amount of time he had actually been in the group. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, but if there was one thing he could be certain of, Rey felt quite relieved at not being on the inside of Randy's circle of attention.

--

**#4 – Watching You, by Velvet Chain**

Sometimes Randy found himself unconsciously watching June.

It wasn't that he _wanted _to watch her. She wasn't _that _pretty, after all, and he was the fucking Legend Killer—he could have any woman he wanted with the snap of his fingers. But still, when he wasn't thinking, his senses honed in on her, his icy eyes following her every movement, his heightened hearing taking in every sound that fell from her soft lips.

Seconds, minutes, hours later—Randy was never sure—he would snap out of his whatever-it-was trance in realization of just _what_ he was doing, stifling the groan that too often forced its way up his throat.

Every time he wondered the same thing.

_Why the hell am I doing this?_

Sure, he liked to watch people. Part of his job was to learn how to read his adversaries and use their own body language against them. A person's movements often told him what their words could not, but he knew June inside and out. The woman wasn't hard to understand at _all_.

Yet each time he let his mind wander as he followed her every movement, her every breath, and it completely unnerved him.

Randal Keith Orton could be called many things, but this was the first time he ever considered adding _stalker_ to the list.

--

**#5 – The Reason, by Hoobastank**

"Is…is that how you feel, Randy?"

If someone had told her that her voice had been laced with grief, she wouldn't have believed them. Or maybe she would have, who knew? But June was sure that what she had been feeling hadn't been grief.

"…if…if you really hate me that much…I'll leave. I'll leave, and I'll never bother you again…"

It had been resignation.

No. Maybe it was both, because the more she thought about it, the more alike the two words seemed. She hadn't wanted to leave, and she sure as hell hadn't wanted to leave Randy behind either, because out of all of her friends, Randy was the one she worried about the most. He was always so angry with her, always so obsessed with becoming the best in the corporate world. His insane fixations frightened her, because it seemed to make him less human in her eyes the more he delved into the vortex of his insanity.

What made things worst was that he was also as stubborn as a mule. That was why he had been so _sure_, so _stuck _on the idea that she loved Dave. Despite all of her protests, she had no doubts that he would have only continued to make her feel guilty and miserable had she stayed with him and the boys.

She could still picture the look on the Legend Killer's face—the bitter, angry look and the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes that he had absolutely refused to shed. It had been something June had never wanted to see on him, the strong and tough young man whom she had grown to consider as one of her best friends, and she had felt her heart slow down and quicken simultaneously as he told her to get out and shack up with Dave "like the whore you are".

Throughout the entire argument, her eyes had met his for only one moment. It startled her when this happened—June had forgotten that Randy had blue eyes, and when she looked into them, she felt as if she was staring right into his soul, taking him in for all he had been, was, and would ever be.

June's chest tightened more and more in an attempt to close off his cold, cruel words, and she lowered her gaze ashamedly. She swallowed with difficulty and tried to remember how to breathe, but it was so hard…she couldn't handle the raw emotions she was seeing in his blue irises. It frightened her.

Even though Dave had come sailing to her rescue and took her far, far away in the aftermath, all she could think about in the end was how staring into Randy's eyes had made her feel a rush of unidentifiable emotions, a rush she had never quite experienced with anyone else before and would probably never experience again. Whenever she looked into Dave's eyes, not finding this rush of emotion in _them_, she felt a pang of guilt.

And June just couldn't figure out why.

--

**#6 – This is How a Heart Breaks, by Rob Thomas**

What had happened between her and Randy had been an accident. No, correction, it had been a _mistake_. An unholy act of impulse urged on by anger and frustration. At least, that's what June kept telling herself after everything was said and done.

She could still remember it, though. She could still remember the fight which had escalated into a heated exchange, where disturbingly familiar words of cruelty had been spat out by a man who was supposedly one of her dearest friends. Yes, she was useless. Yes, she was weak and was nothing but a burden.

She had heard all of those things before.

Normally she would keep her head low and stay quiet, allowing him to rant and rave and destroy her bit by bit. She was a submissive woman by nature and fighting just wasn't in her blood. But something had been different that night. Maybe it was because Dave had left for Dubai. Maybe it was because Jamie had just started her "rebellious toddler" stage. Maybe she was just sick and tired of how she and Randy always seemed to trip over the same arguments again and again and again, up to the point where she just wanted to press a gun barrel to her temple and end it all.

Whatever the reason was, she was _tired_ and _angry _and she had had more than enough of his shit for one night.

_RandyshutupRandyshutupRandyshutupRandyshutupRANDYJUSTSHUTUPALREADY!_

Next thing she knew, her hand was stinging and Randy was staring at her in shock, a small red handprint burning angrily into his cheek.

Silence.

Before she could blink, she suddenly found Randy's face only inches away from hers, his breathing becoming harsh and animalistic as he stared her down with an almost primal look on his face. He was now so physically close to her that their noses were practically touching, and June could clearly see an unfamiliar emotion stirring within the eyes of the Legend Killer, an emotion that was intensified by the heavy, uncomfortable tension that had settled between them.

Had John, Jeff or even Jamie been there, they would have seen that Randy was but a hair's width away from teetering over the edge and they would have run for their lives. June, however, was currently blinded by her own anger and could have cared less what he did to her so long as it fell short of first or second-degree murder. Foolishly, she held her stare, refusing to back down even as his hands began to grasp at her arms, tightening to the point where her blood circulation was almost cut off.

…

It took a while, but the enormity of what she had done finally sunk in. As reason slowly returned to the forefront, June suddenly realized the situation she was in, and _who _she was in it with. Horror gripped her entire form as her brave front quickly melted away, and she clumsily tried to apologize, offering to get him something for his cheek—

—and then she found herself slammed against a nearby wall, immobile as Randy brutally devoured her mouth. Completely taken aback, June wanted to scream at how rough, hot, and unforgiving his lips were against hers, feeling nothing but tongue and teeth and saliva, and the young mother had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand when the kiss finally broke off. The only sounds between them for the next agonizingly long minute was their breathing, heavy and labored, while Randy stared at her with a fierceness that made June want to cower.

_Oh my god he's insane he's drunk he's ill and delirious whatthehelliswrongwithhim?! _

Thoughts of Randy having finally lost his sanity flew through her mind more than once, and June briefly wondered when and where the Legend Killer—the least polite and most disliked of all her friends—began to harbor any feelings of physical attraction towards her. She couldn't remember a time when he even hinted he had been fond of her, and she certainly didn't remember ever telling him that she felt _that _way about him…

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of her lungs in a rush as Randy's mouth collided with hers again. June stumbled back, gripping onto the Legend Killer's shirt in a frantic bid to regain her balance. The kiss was hard, fast, and unrelenting, and June wasn't sure who decided to push whom down towards Randy's bedroom.

But once the two of them had struggled through the door, everything picked up at a furious pace.

Harsh and shallow breathing, aggressive kisses that left June's lips feeling battered and bruised, hands viciously grabbing in places where she hadn't been touched in a long time. The fight carried onto the bed until June found herself being pinned on her back, her wrists held tight in Randy's grip as he shoved her hard onto the pillow. Fear coiled in the pit of her stomach at how intensely he was staring at her, at how vulnerable and weak she felt, at how _unfamiliar_ Randy was to her right now. She didn't want this, didn't understand why this was happening, and yet she was unable to stop a whimper from escaping her lips as the Legend Killer's full weight crushed her small form beneath his.

_No, I don't want this, I don't want this, thisisn'tRIGHT—_

She jerked when Randy began to grind his hips against hers. His saliva-slicked mouth pressed heavily against her exposed neck, and she all but panicked when she felt him lick and kiss his way up her jaw line. His breath blew in hot, quick puffs against her chin and lips as his mouth ghosted over her skin so tenderly, so gently, so _intimately_ that it yanked June back to reality.

Using strength she didn't know she possessed, she abruptly shoved Randy away.

_No. _She shook her head. _No. Not you. I don't want YOU!_

"J-Junie," Randy began, his voice sounding odd and uncharacteristically quiet. "J-Junie, wait—"

June didn't answer him. She didn't like the unfamiliar rawness in Randy's voice. Fear was creeping back in, thick and unsettling. Ever since Jamie's birth, things had already changed too much between them. However, many of those changes were reversible over time. _This_, however, was permanent and lingering.

An accident, she frantically told herself as she stumbled out of his room, never once looking back. She wiped her swollen lips furiously with the sleeve of her sweater, feeling horribly dirty and used. She could still smell his expensive cologne on her body, the bittersweet scent a taunting reminder of what had just happened as much as the sweat drying on her skin.

It was a mistake. That was all it was.

--

**#7 – Who I Am, Smile Empty Soul (Not AU)**

They both had their walls built so carefully, so intricately, that they were sure nobody could get past them even if they tried.

His wall was built off brashness and defiance. He was loud, not afraid to jump headfirst into any situation he found, especially if there was something in store for him at the end. He was defiant by nature, so hiding behind a wall of it came almost as naturally to him as wrestling.

Her wall was made of simplicity. She came off to others as the plain, mousey medical assistant, just a awkward young woman who cared about everyone but herself. A nice, quiet girl, at least on the surface. Who would even suspect there _was _more than what she let people see?

Their walls hid their secrets from the entire world; they hid their fears, their uncertainties. They shared them with nobody, and nobody ever succeeded in discovering them. At least until they had met each other. It had happened so suddenly that neither of them had noticed the walls tumbling away.

When they had finally noticed the decay it had surprised them both, though it shouldn't have. After all, when walls run on perpendicular paths they have no choice but to collide eventually.

--

**#8 – Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off, by Panic at the Disco**

When she woke up the morning after, she didn't expect to wake up in an unfamiliar bed. When she woke up the morning after, she didn't expect to wake up in an unfamiliar house. When she woke up the morning after, she didn't expect to wake up with a hangover the size of China threatening to split her head open.

_I don't even know what time it is,_ she thought bitterly as she slumped back onto the bed. Her head pounded as she shut her eyes._ Note to self. Never drink so much again._

She laid there for some time, noting with confusion that not only was she naked, but her body also felt very pained and sore, especially in her lower regions. Bit by bit, snatches of what she had done last night slowly came back to her, and she remembered going to John Morrison's birthday party with her boyfriend Todd. She remembered Randy, Jeff, and John being there, and the five of them had participated in a drinking contest…

…and then things blurred from there. She remembered Todd passing out just in front of the doghouse outside, while Jeff and John began to striptease in front of _everyone _due to their drunken stupor. She remembered tripping over her own two feet in the middle of a dark hallway, leaning against someone much larger and stronger than she was, but who was also equally as drunk…they had staggered into this bedroom…they had been _kissing_…

It was then she noticed that the shower was running in the bathroom. Her body tensing, June quickly sat up and scanned the room. A yellow tank top was tossed carelessly in the corner, along with several empty bottles of alcohol. A black skirt lay crumpled and forgotten at the foot of the bed. Stockings, shoes, and scattered remains of what appeared to be men's clothing stewed the bare floor as June stared on in horror, slowly realizing what must have happened for the room to be in such a state.

_Oh…my god…_

No, no this couldn't be right. Maybe it was Todd who was in the shower. She tried to sort through her hazy memories, trying desperately to remember the face of the man she had been with. While flashes of heated kisses, intimate embraces, and indescribable feelings of pleasure came to mind, she could not fix a face to her lover.

_Porn without faces. Oh god, I'm a slut…_

She heard the shower turn off, and she immediately panicked. She had to get out of here. If the person _was _Todd, she would explain everything to him later, but if this person wasn't Todd…she wouldn't be able to live with herself, nor would she be able to face the love of her life ever again. She couldn't live without Todd—cheating on him, even though she had been drunk, was something she just couldn't do!

Grabbing her top and skirt and quickly slipping them on, she quietly ran barefoot to the door, slipping out of the room just as the young man came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"…Junie?" Randy looked around the room in confusion, wondering where his lover (or so he thought) had gone off to. "Junie, where are you? Junie…?"

--

**#9 – Pretend, by Nat King Cole**

_For the love of God, _he thought. _Just fucking kill me already._

Sometimes it was just too much. He could pretend it didn't hurt, having her here with that wimp of a man she called her husband, but each moment was like a dagger to the heart and it was getting harder and harder to act like he was fine with everything.

He figured a long time ago that it shouldn't hurt him so much. Todd was a decent friend of his, right? And there was no way he could hate the scrawny little journalist. Todd was a good person and he had helped him so much when they were younger. Hell, Todd was the reason he didn't flunk out of school.

And June really, really liked him. That should have been enough. It _should_ have been enough.

Maybe, Randy thought to himself, if he kept repeating those words he would start to believe them too.

--

**#10 – Always, by Saliva**

They refused to speak about it because they both knew that if they did, they would have to acknowledge what they were doing. And they didn't want to acknowledge it.

That was how it was for as long as they've been doing this. It hadn't been a long time, though—Randy had initiated the "relationship" just after Dave left, just after June had lost yet another man she loved in her life.

It had been a hard kiss, a desperate assault against June's lips that was met with the young mother pulling away from him in horror.

They went on with their lives as if nothing happened. They didn't speak about that incident. Not that time, not the time after, or the time after that, and it quickly developed into a habit, a routine that was never spoken of, but carried out nevertheless.

They just wanted it when they needed it. Talking only made things more complicated.

Sometimes the kisses began lazily, tender and slow. Their hands caressed each other's faces, shoulders, chests, and gentle fingers slipped carefully through slivery locks of hair. Randy knew that June preferred it this way. She was enamored with the idea that he had the capability of being affectionate. He knew all the right places to touch, all the right places to kiss and suck, all the right times to thrust just hard enough. And on his part, Randy loved the way June arched her soft body up against him as he held her hips and fucked her slowly and deeply, loved how June would grip at the pillow or the bed sheets and clench around him as he came.

At other times the kiss starts frenzied, hard and lustful as their tongues battled for dominance. Clothes were forcefully torn off and their bodies clung to one another in frantic desperation. Randy always _bit _her during those moments. He bit June hard on the shoulder, on the neck, any place he could clamp his teeth onto, and June always cried out against it. Randy knew she hated the way he marked her, possessed her, labeled her as_ his_.

There was no mutual agreement when it came to this sort of sex, except for the understanding that they both _wanted_ this. They would grab at flesh, grit their teeth, fight it out savagely until Randy finally managed to get June face down on the bed, and enter her fast and greedily. His thrusts were always hard and forceful, and he would smirk sadistically as he watched June claw at the bed sheets frantically as she twisted and writhed beneath him.

It was sweaty, raw, and brutal when they fucked like this, and Randy loved it_ this_ way. He loved how June's body felt when it was trapped underneath his, and he loved how much he could hurt her up to the point where she could barely breathe.

But despite their coupling being gentle or rough, the aftermath was always the same. After regaining the use of her limbs, June would push him off and roll away from him, panting and sweating, staring up at the ceiling in absolute silence. She lay trembling on _that_ side of the bed while Randy rested on the other side, focusing only on the aftershocks of his orgasm rippling through his muscles.

They never cuddled. They never touched. If they touch or cuddle in the aftermath, they might as well have said "I love you" because affection after sex, no matter how gentle or rough the sex had been, meant that there were emotions involved, and emotions just made things complicated. After a few minutes June would get up, get dressed, and leave the room, and Randy would simply watch her go, remaining absolutely quiet until sleep finally settled over him.

He had to rest. When the morning came, their routine would begin anew.

--

**A/N: …UGH. This chapter was…very uncomfortable for me to write. Nothing here should be considered part of the main storyline.**

**I hope I portrayed the difference of THIS relationship across, especially when compared to the other two. Once more…please don't burn me at the stake. Please?**


End file.
